Monday, August 30, 2010

Stupid Explanations and Lazy Revelations

I hit deadlines about as well as JFK gets through Dealey Plaza.

About every time I state something will be posted at a certain date, you could bet a fortune it's simply not gonna happen.

However, this time around with the Bomber's Dozen, my proverbial block wasn't simply procrastination but something more legitimate; THERE HAVE BEEN NO NEWS STORIES.

I'll open the veil to the backroom: I gave the Bomber's Dozen stuff a 2 week hiatus to allow the world to bubble with more absurd news for me to harvest. Except it didn't. Instead, I got more Katy Perry being Katy Perry and how the Leeds Festival substantiates my tragedy of not being British.

I did however save six stories which are worth doing something goofy with. I'll have to goof on them when I've stopped being an exhausted rookie Barista. Which, by the way, has been going awesome and needs to be blogged about.

This blog had two titles, because along with revealing to you that I'm about as reliable as Judas and the world has done nothing of relevance for 2 weeks, I've just spent this entire morning watching "Doctor Who" from 10AM to 4PM. And it was fan-fucking-tastic.

I initially watched the show back when it premiered years ago in England through fileshare programs and eventually lost track. Downloading got incredibly grating after a while. It's such a fun series that I'm pretty disappointed I've missed out on it over the years.

More importantly (Or really, slightly more narcissistic), I haven't had a moment to just sit and drool for 4 hours in a while. I've been trying so hard to consistently do something with my existence that I've kind of forgotten to give my brain levity. Not that I've been curing cancer for the past few weeks, but I haven't given time to just let myself be completely lazy.

As a result I've ended up fatigued in more ways than one, which resulted in the barely audible haystack that's rolling through this blog.

But look at me now. 4 hours of British people with aliens, and I'm rambling off trite metaphors like a 14-year-old poet. My life needs a little more lazy and a little less discipline.

Or maybe I'm wrong and my procrastination has become parasitic. Oh God.

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